


I Don't Love You (And Other Lies)

by Maniacalfreak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mates, Mating Bond, Original Character(s), Possessive Behavior, Post-Hogwarts, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Veela, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-08 09:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15927182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maniacalfreak/pseuds/Maniacalfreak
Summary: There are shadows springing forth from the darkness. Something ancient is on the verge of being awoken. Harry Potter is once again called upon to save the wizarding world from the evil corruption of a Dark Lord. At the same time, the world gains something pure in the form of Draco Malfoy, a newly awoken veela who claims to be his mate.Can Harry survive these difficult times and defeat this new evil or will Draco's life become the ultimate sacrifice that he never wished to pay?





	1. Unexpected Discoveries

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - Anti-abortion/ Pro-life and guilt
> 
> I am pro-choice, but in this chapter there will be descriptive scenes detailing the aftermath of abortion that may be triggering! Please read at your own caution!

The problem with being born into a bloodline of purebloods that have survived and strived to maintain their purity for generations wasn’t the old money, odd traditions or customs – it was that one tended to acquire a superiority complex after maintaining a pure bloodline for over a millennium.

Not one ounce of impurity was mixed into the Malfoy line.

Not one.   

And Draco’s pride and ego about his heritage and status was no exception. He grew up with the teachings and morals of his father. Being a pureblood was something to take pride in above all else. Muggles and filthy mudbloods were to be frowned upon and cast out.

But Draco’s feelings on the matter drastically changed after the war. Blood wasn’t everything. His family meant a great deal to him, but he didn’t see the point in being petty and cruel to someone because of their blood.

That was something he had to discover for himself.

During the war… there was no time for being petty or egotistical. Being a pureblood wouldn’t save him. Being a pureblood didn’t come with any biological differences than any other witch or wizard - muggleborn or not. All that mattered was survival. He didn’t care who was half-blood or less. Everyone had to work together to ensure the survival of the wizarding world.

That was the first time he fully realized the depth of corruption that was bred into his bloodline.

His father… his father was a bitter and scared man that hid behind the prestige of their name and power.

There were rumors about the Malfoy bloodline. There were always rumors and secrets when a bloodline survived as long as his have. Having an enlarged vault at Gringotts to accommodate his family’s vast wealth ensured their influence in the wizarding world and left them with no shortage of connections. Everyone knew the Malfoy name. The Malfoy's were one of the wealthiest families in the world, they didn’t want for nothing.

But one could not halt the whispers that creeped out from the shadows. Rumors about why the Malfoy line never had a daughter for an heir. The Malfoy’s weren’t exactly known for their light magic. Many people suspected that dark magic was involved - that the Malfoy’s concocted special potions and dark spells to eliminate the chances of a female being born.

Which was a load of bullocks, in Draco’s opinion.

No. There was something horrible going on that had nothing to do with magic, and Draco was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Draco had been ecstatic with the news that his mother was expecting. It came as a great shock to him and his father, but was not an welcomed surprise.

After the wizarding war, his family was brought to stand trial before the Wizengamot. His family’s standing in the ministry was tarnished. Their family had been dragged through the mud. His father had been sent to Azkaban for four years and had only returned last summer on good behavior. The only thing that had saved his mother and himself from facing the same fate was _Saint Potter_.

The insufferable Gryffindor had been… kind… enough to speak on their behalf during their trial. If it hadn’t been for Potter, his family would have lost everything. His mother would have been sent to Azkaban. _He_ would have been sent to Azkaban.

It only made Draco hate him more.

That was the second time Potter had saved him. He hated feeling like he owed Potter _anything!_ And now he owed two life debts to Potter that he had no way of ever repaying.

So, a little spark of happiness was well deserved, don’t you think?

That is, until his mother unexpectedly miscarries three months later.

His parents had gotten into a row the night before the incident, and Draco had assumed it was the stress that had done it. But after Misty, his person house elf, let slip to him over morning tea that the masters of the house had gotten into an argument was due to the fact that the unborn child was to be a girl.

Now Draco wasn’t entirely confident that there wasn’t something unspeakable happening within his family’s bloodline.    

Draco’s mind was filled with uncertainty and depressing thoughts.

Were the rumors to be believed?

Did he suspect his parents of using dark magic against their unborn child? Definitely not. His mother loved her children fiercely. He heard proof of that when Potter recounted what his mother had done to help him during his “death.”

His mother had defied the Dark Lord and lied to his face. He would never again doubt his mother’s love for him.

Did he suspect his parents of murdering their unborn child by terminating the pregnancy? The concept wasn’t entirely foreign to him. According to his research, an ‘abortion’ was a common medical procedure among muggles who didn’t wish to have children but had gotten pregnant.

The thought was abhorrent among the wizarding world. It was considered a foul deed and would land the witch who committed such a crime in Azkaban. Murdering another witch or wizard was a grave crime. In the Wizengamot’s eyes, knowingly terminating a pregnancy and extinguishing the life and magic growing inside you was on the same level as if you had raised your wand and used the killing curse or killed someone with your bare hands.

Could his parents have done that?

He fucking hoped not. His family wouldn’t survive such a scandal, Draco thought darkly as he walked briskly towards his mother’s quarters.

Draco fully intended to confront his mother about it. His father would never tell him anything he didn’t want him to know, but his mother - his mother could be relied upon to tell him the truth. She never shied away from telling him things he didn’t want to hear.

Draco had every right to know why his little sister wasn’t given a chance at life, especially if his suspicions were correct, which they often were.

His parents owed him that much.

The door to his mother’s private quarters was left open so he let himself in. The room was in disarray. Bottles, vials, and flasks were strewn upon his mother’s once immaculately organized desk. The potions cabinet was left ajar, where half its contents were shattered across floor. Books, clothing, and personal objects were thrown all about the room. It looked as though someone had cast a small tornado charm and let it wreak havoc in the room.

“Mother?” Draco called out, walking further into the seemingly empty room, his eyes darting around the space suspiciously. Draco’s hand unconsciously reached for the wand in his pocket, grasping the handle to reassure himself that it was there, feeling comforted with its presence. He never wanted to be caught unawares without his wand. “Mother? Are you here?”

A sharp sound from the adjoining bathroom had him flinching at the unexpected noise, like the sound of glass shattering. Worried, Draco strode towards the bathroom door, his wand now firmly in his hand. Draco tried the knob of the door.

Locked.

“Mother?” When there was no response, his worry grew. “Are you decent? I’m coming in.”

With a firm, _Alohomora,_ the bathroom door knob briefly shimmered before unlocking itself and opening with a slight wave from his wand.

Preparing for the worst, Draco was immensely relieved to see that his mother was in no immediate danger.

Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on the toilet seat with a smashed ornate calendrix at her feet, the enchanted sand and numeric numbers that counted down the days until her child was to be born had gathered into a cruel horizontal line on the floor, a dreadful symbol no mother-to-be ever wanted to see.

Deceased.

“Mother?” Draco questioned quietly, his voice rough, his heart having lodged somewhere in his throat.

His mother looked terrible in her despair. Her once beautiful styled hair lay limp and tangled against her shoulders, her skin and complexion devoid of its natural glow, and her immaculate dresswear was replaced with sweatpants and a loose blouse.

His mother _detested_ common wear.

Draco swallowed thickly when his mother lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were red-rimmed from tears that were still making their way down her face. In that very instance, Draco felt cold.

His mother’s face was devoid of emotion, but it was her eyes that spoke of the unspeakable amount of pain she was suffering.

She looked broken.

“Draco…”

Draco stepped forward and fell to his knees before his mother. His hands clasped his mother’s much smaller hands in his own, his mind scrambling in panic, trying to comfort her any way that he could think of.

“I’m here, mother.” Draco said hoarsely. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

There was a moment of silence before the proud, stoic Narcissa Malfoy let out a sob and burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry, my dragon.” Narcissa cried brokenly, her voice choked with grief. “My dear boy… I’m so terribly sorry.”

Draco felt a wave of sadness wash over him, threatening to overwhelm him with its intensity. He didn’t know what to do! He wasn’t familiar with dealing with emotional females – or anyone for that matter.

Pansy had once told him that he was emotionally constipated and that the only real emotion he felt was anger and resentment. That was far from the truth, but the world didn’t need to know about his vulnerabilities. He had enough of a hard time dealing with his own conflicting emotions and mental health that he didn’t have any idea how to comfort and make someone else feel better – it’s not like he had any experience with that sort of thing. He honestly never tried. He wasn’t exactly the kind of bloke that was brimming with warm, fuzzy feelings.

It’s not like he ever had someone try to make _him_ feel better. It was an entirely foreign concept. But this was his _mother_ , and it pained him to see such a proud, strong women reduced to this.

“Shh… it’s going to be alright.” Draco soothed, his hand squeezing his mother’s consolingly. “Please, mother, don’t cry.” Draco begged.

Narcissa laughed tearfully. “My sweet boy… from the day you were born, I’ve wanted to give you a wonderful life and protect you from the horrors of the world… and I’ve failed.”

Draco stiffened. He didn’t like where this was going. “Mother – “

“I couldn’t protect you!” Narcissa practically wailed. “When you were chosen to receive the dark mark to redeem your father’s failure I could do nothing but watch. I did nothing!” Narcissa sobbed, wrenching her hands away from Draco’s grasp to press the heel of her palms against her eyes. “I never wanted this kind of life for you. I prayed and I prayed that the Dard Lord would never return…” Narcissa confessed. “But I loved your father too much to walk away, and because I wasn’t strong enough, you’ve suffered. It’s all my fault! I am a terrible mother.”

“That’s not true mother! Don’t ever let me hear you say something like that again!” Draco said vehemently, peeling Narcissa’s hands away from her face. “You did all that you could. I have never once blamed you for all that has happened over the years. Our lives would have been ten times worse if we had turned our backs on You-Know-Who and defied him. He would have killed us – you know this.” Draco stated, laying down the truth for his mother to see clearly. There was no other way to look at in his eyes. His mother wasn’t to blame for this. “It’s not your fault. You are not a terrible mother! Don’t ever let yourself believe that.”

“But I am! Don’t you see!?” Narcissa exclaimed, her voice bitter and full of self-loathing. “I have done something horrible that cannot be so easily forgiven or forgotten – something no true m-mother would ever do! Something, that if you knew, would make you despise me.”

Draco closed his eyes in weary trepidation, inhaling sharply. He knew right from the very beginning that there was a very high probability that his parents had been behind this tragedy. He had even suspected that his father had been the cause – but now? He knew a guilty person when he was looking at one.

He hadn’t wanted to be right. His heart was heavy with the knowledge that the death of his little sister was his own mothers doing.

He could scarcely comprehend such a baseless act.

“Why?” Draco whispered quietly, trying to keep the hurt and anger out of his voice. He couldn’t see any reason behind his mother’s actions – none that were plausible, anyway.

Narcissa’s lip trembled. “I didn’t raise no fool, I knew you would suspect something immediately, but you have to understand I - “

“Understand what?” Draco practically snapped, trying and failing to reign in his emotions. Losing control of his tongue during a time like this wouldn’t make the situation any easier to deal with. “Why did you do this? _How could you?”_

“I…” Narcissa whimpered, her chin wobbling underneath her son’s ire. She never intended to cause her son any pain. Narcissa cleared her throat with hesitation before her shoulders hunched in defeat. “I am sure you are aware that our family has many secrets, some of which we have never deigned to tell you.”

“A history lesson, really, mother? Is now really the time?” Draco raised a disbelieving eyebrow, scowling. “After secretly pledging our allegiance to the Dark Lord and harboring criminals, what other possible secrets are there that could possibly be more terrible than that?”

“Hush, Draco. Don’t give me that cheek.” Narcissa said sharply, wiping her tears away with resigned determinization to get this conversation over with. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could wallow in peace. “There are other such secrets, Draco. Deeper secrets. Secrets that your father wishes would remain buried in the past. But it has become too dangerous to keep you ignorant of them.”

Draco frowned, unsettled by the sliver of unease and fear lurking in the depths of his mothers’ eyes. Whatever it was, it was enough for his mother to fear for his safety. Something that obviously would affect him and their family – something so terrible that it made his mother end her child’s life to spare her from it.

“Tell me.” Draco demanded. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.” Because nothing was worse than Voldemort in Draco’s eyes.

“Your great-grandfather, Septimius Malfoy, had two sons.  One of which you know, your grandfather Abraxas. His other son was named Morpheus - he was disowned from the family.”

“What?” Draco breathed, his eyes widening in shocked disbelief. He had another side to his family that he didn’t even know about? _Why?_  “Why was he disowned, and why is it so important to father that his identity be kept secret?”

“Because your father is ashamed.” Narcissa confessed quietly. “Your family’s blood doesn’t run quite as pure as he would have everybody think it is.”

Draco stared at his mother with dawning horror. “What are you insinuating?”

“I’m telling you that the Malfoy bloodline originated from France. The farthest we’ve managed to trace your blood back to is seven generations, back to Armand Malfoy… who was a full-fledged Veela.”

Draco’s fell back to sit on his hunches, his mouth falling open on a gasp, staring at his mother in bewilderment, feeling no small amount of horror and disbelief. “We have Veela in our ancestry? We’re _half-breeds?!_ ” Draco said shrilly.

His whole life was built upon a lie. What was even the truth anymore? Even his pureblood status was a fucking sham, Draco thought with distain.

“Yes.” Narcissa confirmed tentatively. “Which is why your great uncle Morpheus was disowned… no one knows how, but during a tragic accident that involved his wife, he came into his Veela inheritance and managed to save her life. From that day onward, he embraced his true nature, and in doing so, he was shunned. There was no place for him in your family’s pureblood ideology.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Draco demanded. “How does this have anything to do with what you did?”

“Because…” Narcissa started, a slight tremble in her voice, as though she were terrified to say the following words out loud. “Because Morpheus’s grandchildren recently came into their veela inheritance.” Narcissa’s wide tearful eyes met Draco’s and held his gaze, willing him to understand the urgency and importance of what she was saying. “The war has affected us all, and the veela population has suffered greatly for refusing the Dark Lord. Wizarding families all around the world are reporting more and more veela inheritances awakening unexpectedly, even in bloodlines where the veela genes are drastically diluted.”

Dread slithered down Draco’s spine. “Are you…are you saying what I think you are?”

Narcissa swallowed thickly, new tears brimming in her eyes. “Yes, and it is imperative that you know everything as quickly as possible. You need to be warned… its unprecedented, but it’s happening – males are transitioning into veela’s on their twenty-first birthday.”

“No…” Draco begged, pleading to Merlin that it wasn’t true. This couldn’t be happening! Not to him, not _again._ Fate had a sick sense of humor. Why did it have to take all his choices away from him? He couldn’t even live a normal life without some catastrophe happening in one form or another.

“It’s the reason I had to let go of my precious b-baby girl.” Narcissa sobbed, her hand rising to cover her mouth. “All female in the Malfoy line present as veela’s. Your father would not suffer having a d-daughter shame his family by becoming a veela. And now I’ve realized too late that what we did was for _naught_.” Narcissa let out another sob, her body wracked with sorrow. “Y-You may very well undergo a veela inheritance on your next birthday.”

Draco felt lightheaded and overwhelmed, numb with shock. His twenty-first birthday was _weeks_ away! Draco thought hysterically.

“Survival of the species and all that.” Narcissa continued, laughing bitterly. “It’s a biological imperative to guarantee the survival of the veela race. Typically, male veela’s are only birthed from two fully-fledged veela.” Narcissa laughed again, but the sound was full of distress and panic. “My beautiful boy… you have always been too beautiful for your own good. My little cherub… yes, you will inherit the Veela genes. I have no doubt about it.”

For once in his life Draco didn’t know what to say. There was no witty remark, no snarky comeback, no last words to be had.

His mind was painstakingly quiet.

“Does father know about this?” Draco asked numbly, afraid to know the answer.

“No.” Narcissa said adamantly, wiping away her tears. “I will not breathe a word of this to him. I – I don’t need him to suspect you too.”

“Me too?” Draco said coolly, his steel grey eyes rising from the floor to meet his mothers. “Did he make you do this to yourself? Did father make you terminate your pregnancy?”

Narcissa remained silent, which was answer enough for Draco.

Draco heard a roaring in his ears. He’s always heard stories that anger was red-hot and it felt like your blood was boiling with the amount of rage contained in your blood.  That your vision went red.

But Draco just felt cold.

Icy fury that chilled his bones and froze his blood. He voice didn’t want to work and his limbs felt numb like he’d been standing in the freezing cold for hours.

He was going into shock probably.

He was angry. Just so angry. His family has suffered so much already… and now this! At the hand of his father, no less. All because the child might be different.

That he might suffer the same fate made him feel cold. What would father think if he suddenly turned into some wild creature? What would he _do_?

Probably disown him, that’s what, Draco thought darkly. 

“You have to be prepared, Draco.” Narcissa said firmly, gripping his hands in hers. “Go to the Ministry’s library and find everything on veela that you can. Go to the Department of Magical Creatures if you have to. I’m afraid any lore and books we’ve once had in our library has been long since destroyed and I do not know nearly enough information to help you.”

Draco didn’t need to ask who had destroyed them. It was pretty obvious at this point who had done it.

“I will, mother.” Draco promised.

His mother’s smile and happiness were worth far more than any harboring prejudice he has at his sudden misfortune.

He will do all that he can to ensure that he goes into his twenty-first birthday prepared, even if it was only for his mother’s sake.

He’s done worse things than sacrifice his time to obtain knowledge to keep his mother happy. At least this sacrifice didn’t come at the cost of anyone’s life.

Just his sanity.

* * *

Draco spent what few weeks he had left before his twenty-first birthday pouring over old texts, scrolls, and books in the Library and Archive Department in the Ministry to gather all the information he could on veela.

Unfortunately, veela were highly secretive and secluded creatures. What little information that was recorded that he managed to get his hands on didn’t provide him with enough details to make him feel any less anxious about his upcoming birthday.

He’s managed to uncover what transpires during a veela transformation from a scroll written by a mediwitch who had worked at St. Mungo’s and had written about witnessing the rare occurrence.

That definitely didn’t make him feel any less nauseated by the whole situation but at least it did provide him with some insight on what he would become. Reading the scroll would make any expecting veela sick, finding out that not only are you going to undergo drastic magical changes, but you will also suffer the growth of wings and a beak, and extremely sharp talons capable of shredding skin from bone.

None of that sounded very pleasant.

Even worse, he couldn’t find anything about the actual transition during a veela inheritance. What to expect, what it was going to feel like, any symptoms he might experience leading up to the event – nothing.

The information seemed to be purposefully kept secret. All the books and documents he found went on and on about their behavior, where they originated from, what they look like, the differences between the male and females, and their mating habits.

Which was a whole other nightmare that Draco wanted to avoid at all costs.

Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew enough about prophecies and destiny – he’s seen one play out to completion right before his very eyes. The prophecy that Harry Potter would one day defeat the Dark Lord and save the wizarding world from his tyranny. That definitely made him a believer when he hadn’t been before.

It was a strange magic – prophesies.  It didn’t help that he was an Unspeakable working in the Department of Mysteries. He was acutely aware of the phenomena. It guaranteed that he would never again doubt the words of a seer. It made him less ignorant of the importance of them, regardless of his immense hatred at the thought that his destiny might be in the hands of anyone but his own. But prophecies had a way of playing out in the end – they were certain.

Veela’s pre-destined mates were very much alike in that regard. It was absolutely certain.

Veela embodied pure magic, capable of controlling the very elements because of how in tune they were with nature and the magic that courses through the land.

A veela’s magical core seeks endlessly for the magical signature that would be their perfect match - powerful, bright, and pure. Capable of protecting themselves but still requiring the magical strength and ultimate protection that a veela could naturally provide their mate.

Didn’t seem like a complete nightmare, right?

That is until Draco discovered that once he found his mate there would be no other for him. People described it as a blissful union, that there could never be a love quite so powerfully unconditional and pure as that between a veela and their mate. And once the veela found their mate they could not live without them. Their magical core itself would be tied to that of their mates to provide extra strength.

Which meant that if anything were to happen to their mate then the veela would die right along with them.

To make matters even worse, veela’s were tactile by nature and find their mates through touch. Once they’ve found their mates, they require physical touch from them to transfer excess magic. If not then their health will slowly decline and their magical core will overload, causing their body to send enzymes to heal the rift in their core which slowly saps their strength and vitality.

If this were to remain unchecked the veela will die from their body being sapped of its natural life force to continuously seal the overflow of magic.

Worse case in history was a veela who had died in St. Mungo’s after their mate had rejected them.

Being rejected meant certain death for a veela. Knowing that their mate didn’t want them, their inner veela would fade, giving up on life and causing the body to start shutting down. It had gotten to the point where any relief the Mediwitch’s could provide no longer had any affect.

The veela literally died from a broken heart.

Draco had to stop reading at that point, his eyes blurring and finding it suddenly hard to breathe, the walls seemingly closing in around him. He refused to ever be at the mercy of someone who could have that much power over him. His very life would be in their hands and he wouldn’t have any say on the matter – not if he wanted to live.

It made him sick to his stomach.  

He really hoped that he was doing all this research for nothing and one day he could look back at all of this and laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies!
> 
> I am very excited to bring you the first chapter of my new fic! I hope everyone enjoys it and sticks around to see what comes next!
> 
> Comments and feedback are loved! I will always respond to any messages or questions you send my way! You guys give me life! <3


	2. Twenty-First Birthday

Draco woke up on the morning of his twenty-first birthday wracked with nerves, his stomach twisted in knots. If his mother’s suspicions and fears were correct then today would be the day of his veela inheritance.

Draco didn’t feel any different, nor did he feel like he was on the verge of having wings spontaneously bursting out from his back.

He felt… normal.

Perhaps his mother’s fears were just that – fears.

Draco took a calming drought to banish his nerves and started getting ready for his big day. He wouldn’t let himself brood on thoughts of ‘what ifs’ and ‘should haves’ and worry himself sick. He wasn’t going to let this ruin his birthday.

A bloke only turned twenty-one once and he wasn’t going to waste it by spending so much time caught up in his own head with veela nonsense.

Draco had spent the last three weeks stressing and pouring over every text he could get his hands on. No witch of wizard in history could be more prepared to go into a veela inheritance than Draco Malfoy. His determination and ambition were unparalleled. He could achieve anything if he set his mind to it and applied himself.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t spent so much time on a project since the war when he had rebuilt the vanishing cabinet to help the Death Eaters enter Hogwarts, Draco mused. Not one of his best moments as it had led to the death of a great man and the destruction of Hogwarts, but it had been a great achievement non the less.

Everyone had doubted his capabilities and he had proved them all wrong. It had felt good, however short lived it was.

Draco pushed away the melancholic memories and berated himself on focusing on the present.

Today he was officially a man.

Today was the day that marked the beginning of a new journey. Today Draco would officially inherit a small fortune from the Malfoy estate to commemorate the beginning of his life as a man. He would receive his own personal vault instead of withdrawing funds from the family vault – something his mother rather insisted upon, to teach him the value of his galleons and to spend his funds more wisely.

Draco could admit he had a penchant for expensive suits and imports from other countries. He was a Malfoy and had expensive tastes, something that he had taken after his father; much to his mother’s annoyance.

His father had always indulged him but his mother had a peculiar opinion when it came to spending money, even though they have lots of it.

While his mother came from a wealthy family, she was an extremely frugal individual. She would rather spend her galleons on outings and activates that prompted happy memories and experiences. While she would spend money on new clothing it was only at his father’s insistence – or when he wished to pamper her with gifts.

Draco never understood his mother’s reluctance on withdrawing funds from the Malfoy vault. They had so much money that several more generations of Malfoy’s could live comfortably. Which was why he couldn’t understand why his mother insisted on him having his own vault and teaching him to spend his money more wisely and with more conscious thought.

Draco understood where his mother’s fear steamed from. His mother had been ever so fearful that they would somehow lose their fortune ever since the Wizengamot had frozen their funds and seized all their assets during their Wizengamot trails. His family had very nearly lost everything; and they would have if his whole family had been sentenced to Azkaban.

To be honest that didn’t irk Draco as much as it would have when he was younger. He was in a good place now. He had a good job that earned him a rather large paycheck every two weeks so he wasn’t worried about dipping into his funds too much. He doubted that he could even put a dent into the galleons in his vault; he didn’t actually go out and buy outrageously unnecessary expensive garments like his mother liked to believe.

He lived in luxury, yes, but not any more so than any other pureblood family. He family came from old money, it was to be expected that they tended to spend their money lavishly.

What Draco was really excited about though was inheriting the property and family heirlooms that will be passed down to him – as is traditional in his family. As the sole Malfoy heir, he was to inherit all that which his parents no longer wished to retain.

Draco was secretly hoping that he would be gifted the cottage up in the Alps. No member of his family had stepped foot in there in over two centuries. He didn’t understand why, from the photographs he had seen the place was majestic and beautiful and resided up in the mountains next to a large lake. He had shown immense interest in the property over the past several months in hopes that his parents would pick up on his _extremely_ unsubtle hinting.

Draco was ecstatic at the mere thought of the grandeur he was to receive. Being the sole heir of both the Malfoy family and the Noble House of Black had its benefits. It did, however, come with no shortage of mystery. He was sure there were other secrets his family kept besides their veela lineage.

For example, his mother never spoke about what she had inherited from her parents or his aunt Bella. Draco knew his aunt Andromeda was still alive and that nothing had went to her because she had married a muggle and that was abhorrent to his family.

So, for all intents and purposes he was the sole heir to both sides of his family.

Draco didn’t want to think about what kind of predicament that placed him in. If he didn’t settle down with a pureblood witch and produce a male heir in the future then that meant that two great houses would die with him.

A heavy burden to bare considering he was bent.

Another gloomy thought he didn’t want to think about today, Draco thought darkly as he walked down the staircase and into the dining room, drawn to the smell of breakfast – the scent of bacon and freshly baked pastries wafting through the house.

Draco smiled, pleased to see that both of his parents were already seated at the large table, drinking tea and reading the morning post. Draco was surprised that they had made the effort of appearing so… domestic.

Draco wasn’t fooled by their attempts to keep up appearances that their marriage was flawless. He didn’t doubt his parents love for each other but even a bumbling buffoon could tell that their relationship was strained and that they weren’t as happy as they had once been.

His mother glanced up when she heard him enter the room, her eyes taking in his choice of dresswear appraisingly and gave a nod of approval. Draco knew better though; his mother was sly but she couldn’t hide that calculating gaze from him.

She was checking to see if he had manifested any changes.

Other than his usual curly hair being a complete nuisance to him, this morning had started off on a good foot. His hair had remarkably retained their fluffy straightness all through the night so that he hadn’t needed to redo the spell that tamed his hair when he woke up this morning.

Draco’s appearance remained unchanged although he did take extra care with his appearance today. He had chosen fitted black trousers that highlighted the shape of his arse, paired with a simple white dress shirt that he rolled up to his elbow along with one of his black waistcoats overtop that accentuated his trim waist and broad shoulders.

Draco knew he looked good.

All in all, he was guaranteed to catch the eye of passersby’s when he went out today.

Excellent.

Maybe he could add to the highlight of the day by going out to pull. Maybe he’d catch the fancy of a decent enough bloke to shag tonight. He hasn’t gotten laid in ages thanks to all the veela nonsense.

“Mother. Father.” Draco greeted, taking his regular seat at the large table by the window that overlooked the gardens.

“Good morning, darling.” Narcissa smiled, taking a sip of her tea. “How do you feel this morning?”

_Very subtle mother._

“Spectacular.” Draco replied enthusiastically, partially to reassure his mother and to express his genuine excitement for the day.

His father said nothing, but then again Draco hadn’t expected him to. He was surprised that his father had even managed to leave the confines of his office.

Nowadays his father only cared about rebuilding his political power and influence and regaining his foothold in the ministry. A grueling and fruitless labor. The Malfoy name was still stuck in the mud.

He had barely been able to get the job at the Department of Mysteries as a Potion Brewer and Researcher. And even then, he had only gotten in on recommendation that had almost gotten rejected. If it wasn’t for the potion master, William Delancey, he had worked for stepping forward and putting in a good word for him he would have never gotten accepted.

It was entirely the reason why Draco suspected that his father envied and hated him in equal measure. Draco had managed to get a foot in the Ministry where he could not. Draco suffered from no delusions, he knew his father was disappointed that he refused to do anything to gain political power within the Ministry.

Draco was doing something of his own choosing for the first time in his life – something that he loved and took pride in. He wouldn’t let his father’s disapproval have any effect on his life any more. He had let the fear of his father’s disapproval rule most of his life.

But never again. He was going to live for himself.

Draco owed William a great deal for his success and happiness; and he had earned every bit of it.

He had worked his arse off as William’s apprentice for three years, working tirelessly on building his credibility and repertoire and showing everyone that he wasn’t the same Draco Malfoy who had stood by, weighed down by the opinions and ideals of his family that had led him down a path of destruction that ultimately would have ruined him for life if he had refused to change.

He had some redeemable qualities, or so William liked to tell him – that he wasn’t a bad person, just a person who had been in some extenuating circumstances that promoted terrible behavior in order to survive.

It hadn’t taken Draco long to understand that William blamed his parents for the way he had turned out. He had been furious on the attack on his parents, but when he confronted the old wizard he was struck speechless by the man’s words.

It had struck a chord deep inside him.

It had reminded him painfully of another wizard’s words to him.

_“Draco, you are no assassin.” Dumbledore said imploringly, his twinkling eyes filled with understanding and sympathy._

_“How do you know what I am?” Draco said forcefully, his wand trembling in his hand. “I’ve done things that would shock you!”_

_“I cannot say that what you have done is excusable but your actions were done under the desperation borne from doing what you can to survive.” Dumbledore said placatingly. “You are being coerced under the threat of death. Please… let me help you.”_

_“I don’t want your help!” Draco yelled, his voice cracking as he broke down in tears. “Don’t you understand? I have to do this! I have to kill you or he’s going to kill me family! He’s going to kill me…”_

_“No. I won’t let that happen.”  Dumbledore assured. “Come over to the right side, Draco. I can send members of The Order to your mother to hide her. Your father is safe in Azkaban… everyone will be safe. You are not a killer, let me help you.”_

_Draco lowered his wand a fraction, the overwhelming sense of hope staring right back at him in the form of Dumbledore’s eyes._

_Coming to a decision, Draco lowered his arm down to his res at his side, his mouth opening to accept the headmasters offer for sanctuary for him and his family when suddenly there were footsteps thundering up the stairs and four Death Eaters maneuvered into place on each side of him._

_Draco rose his wand back to eye level, his fearful eyes finding Dumbledore’s in panic. He knew then that it was too late. Draco could feel his chance slipping farther and farther away from him until it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand._

_The last thing he saw was what looked like acceptance and forgiveness flicker in Dumbledore’s expressive blue eyes before the wizard was falling, falling, falling… and taking all of Draco’s hopes and dreams with him._

Maybe that was why he admired William so much. It reminded him of Dumbledore in the way that both wizards had been able to see right through him and had taken the time to help him at a time where he was entirely undeserving of such kindness.

To most of society he was just some wretched Death Eater. The knowledge that everyone thought that about him hurt, but it was to be expected. He would never be more than that; the brand on his arm more than ensured that. The stark truth of it haunted his every footstep.

He would never be forgiven for that particular sin.

People didn’t stare at him because he was a pureblood from a powerful and noble family or because he was handsome. No, they stared at him because he was someone they believed should be locked in Azkaban or given The Kiss.

Draco tried to push away all the negative and depressing thoughts behind his occlumency shields where he battered it down and buried furiously. He didn’t want his mother to suspect that anything was wrong what with the way he was probably staring blankly down at his breakfast.

The painful memories and thoughts seemed incapable of leaving him in peace today.

“Draco? Are you listening to me?”

His mother’s voice jerked him back to reality. Draco flushed realizing that his mother had been speaking to him. When he looked up he saw concern reflected in her deep blue eyes.

“Forgive me, mother.” Draco apologized, picking up his fork and knife to cut up some sausages. “My mind is distracted. I am excited to begin the day.”

“Very well.” Narcissa smiled, looking relieved. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Yes, I am glad to hear that you are…enthusiastic about your big day.” Lucius drawled, turning a page of the Daily Prophet. “We have much to accomplish today, Draco.”

“Yes, father.” Draco said, refusing to let his father’s flippant demeanor get to him. “I’m aware of the business that needs to be taken care of today. I have already taken the liberty of arranging for a portkey that will take us to London so we do not have to travel by Floo or walk to the apparition points.”

“Splendid.” Lucius said, a hint of appreciation in his voice. “We will depart after breakfast.”

“Yes, father.”

“I’ve made some arrangements of my own.” Narcissa said, clapping her hands once in a brief display of excitement. “I’ve made a Private Dining reservation in Soho Square that overlooks the beautiful gardens for all of us tonight at six. So, you two will have plenty of time to take care of the necessary documentation at Gringotts and do some shopping and then we can all go out to celebrate.”

“Sounds wonderful, mother.” Draco said with a smile.

Today was looking up to be a really good one.

* * *

Draco’s big day turned out _not_ to be as good as he had hoped.

The trip to Gringotts had been less than ideal.

Draco didn’t know why he had come to presume anything less but he hadn’t quite expected the bank to be so packed full of people that day and maybe he had held the naive notion that perhaps after four long years people would have forgotten or forgave the role his family had played in the war.

His family did play host to the Dark Lord. That wasn’t something anyone seemed keen on forgetting. Not to mention the Dark Mark branded permanently onto his forearm to remind people exactly what he was.

Draco had let the naive thought that because he had worked in a public setting at William’s apothecary as his Apprentice in Diagon Alley and now, for the Ministry, and rightfully earned the respect of his peers and colleagues that it had changed the world’s perception of him.

He had been sorely mistaken.

So, Draco should have expected that the moment he and his father stepped foot in Gringotts that all eyes would be on them. Several heads turned their way, hushed whispers and not so hushed voices spoke of their clear disdain. He could see the hatred and repulsion in their eyes at the mere sight of him.

The looks and spiteful words spat in their direction made his stomach turn, his skin burning hot with nervousness. Draco could practically feel his neck under the collar of his coat flushing red with shame. It managed to ruin the good mood and excitement that had settled over him all morning. It seemed like nothing he did would ever remove the black stain that laid over his family’s name.

His father’s rigid and regal attitude didn’t help matters. The rude and superior behavior towards the goblins in front of all those people didn’t improve their thoughts about them.

Draco had to stand at his father’s side battling against the desire to scream and pull his hair out by the roots and flee the bank – his Malfoy inheritance and dignity be damned. But he did none of those things. He stood there with his mask of indifference firmly in place all the while listening to his father demand and insult the goblin handling their affairs, feeling more and more ashamed to be the son of Lucius Malfoy with every passing second.

There would no doubt be a page about their visit plastered all over the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning, what with the bright flashes of a camera going off.

It was the first time he and his father have been seen together since Lucius’s release from Azkaban six months ago. His family has been trying to keep a low profile since then, knowing the world would be keeping a close eye on the comings and goings of his family now that Lucius was free. 

His father clearly hadn’t changed after his indictment and imprisonment in Azkaban.  If anything, it made Draco think that his father entertained the belief that the world owed him and should hold him on some pedestal like The Chosen One because he was wealthy and a pureblood.

Draco dutifully filled out the document at the goblins’ prompting, his eyes scanning over the information to make sure he hadn’t forgotten or left anything out before handing the parchment back over to the goblin, eager to get this over with so he could leave. He could practically feel the piercing glares like daggers on his back.

The goblin handed over his vault key and Draco thanked him and turned on his heel before his father could admonish him.

“Why would you stoop so low as to _thank_ a goblin?” Lucius sneered in obvious distaste. “They are public servants. They are no better than a house elf. Do you thank our house-elves too? Like they’re our _equals?_ ” Lucius laughed like the mere thought was preposterous.

Draco scowled. “No father.”

Draco does in fact thank his personal house-elf, Tilly. She was a short, well mannered, sensitive elf. There were many times growing up where he had confided in her when there was no one else to speak to. He was very fond of her.

The descent down to his vault was a quiet one, only accompanied by the sound of their cart rolling along the tracks and the goblins incomprehensible mutterings. Their cart rolled to a stop and the goblin got out.

“Lamp, please.” The goblin asked in a rough voice.

Draco dutifully picked up the lamp and handed it over and exited the cart, following after the goblin as the small creature led him to his vault. The goblin hung the oil lamp on a low hook on the wall and turned towards him once more.

“Key, please.” The goblin asked, holding out a gnarled hand. Draco handed it over and the goblin stepped away and turned towards the vault door and inserted the key with a click, the door swishing open without further prompting.

“Here we are.” Draco’s father said, stepping inside the vault and inspecting it with a nod. The room was large with several tables, display cabinets and bookshelves lining the walls, filled with various books and items. In the middle of the room lay several piles of gold that was enough to last a lone wizard a lifetime. “You very own vault. I expect you to spend your fortune wisely, Draco. There will be no funds available to you from the family vault unless it is a dire situation. You mother wishes for you to learn the value of your galleons.”

“I understand.” Draco acquiesced, looking around the room with satisfaction. He was more than happy with what he had received. Draco turned towards his father. “What about the documents you sighed off on, Father? Will I be inheriting any property?”

“It is family tradition for our heirs to reside in the Manor.” Lucius lamented with a sigh. “But your mother claims that such archaic times are in the past and that you should have the choice on where you wish to live, no matter how much I’ve tried to dissuade her. The Manor is more than large enough to comfortably house several generations of Malfoy's. However, I hope that you will be able to see reason where your mother cannot, but in the instance that you take after your mother, I have left the seaside country house in your possession that you have been pining for.”

Draco grinned, bright and happy. “Thank you, father.”

Lucius waved away his gratitude. “Take what you need now, Draco, and let us be on our way. I have business to attend to back at home before our dinner in Soho this evening.”

Draco nodded. “That’s fine. I wanted to do some shopping anyways, so you can leave without me.”

“Very well.”

* * *

The day was winding down and the sky was darkening with the oncoming of dusk.

Draco was uncharacteristically restless. Whether that was due to the excitement from the day or just the overwhelming urge to apparate out of the stilted and awkward dinner with his parents in Soho Square, he couldn’t say.

The elegant dinner in their luxurious dining room in Soho Square was supposed to be enjoyable and a throwback to the days when their family could dine with all the lavishness and splendor and social respect that their pureblood, noble family so rightfully deserved.

Now they had to suffer the fate of having photographers and reporters trailing them and waiting outside of every establishment they entered – and not in the I’m-famous-look-at-me or I’m-a-celebrity sort of fashion that would have warranted such attention. If it were under different circumstances Draco would have been smug at being in the spotlight but he knew these people were hounding his family because they were known ex-Death Eaters and everyone was privy to know what they were up to.

And now those cretins had followed them and were waiting outside for them to exit the building in the hopes of interrogating them and taking photographs for a few measly galleons.

What a disaster.

“Draco,” Narcissa said, sipping from her glass of expensive champing. “Do try not to look so glum, darling.”

“Of course, mother.” Draco said smoothly, pushing away his somber thoughts and forced himself to enjoy the rest of the evening in peace.

Merlin knows he didn’t get much of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked this chapter! I'll be getting into the real juicy bits in the next chapter and things will begin to get more interesting! :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are like a breath of fresh air! I love to hear what you guys think! I will always answer any comments or questions you have! <3
> 
> P.S - If you haven't heard the song 'I'll Be Good' by Jaymes Young I highly recommend it! It suits Draco so well and I haven't be able to stop listening to it!


End file.
